


The Not-Quite-Most Dangerous Game

by MissNaya



Category: DCU
Genre: Butt Plugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Rings, Comeplay, Creampie, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Facials, Incest Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Situational Humiliation, Stiletto Heels, Training, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: To spice things up in their relationship, Jason and Dick play a game with Bruce. It definitely keeps him... on his toes.





	The Not-Quite-Most Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> hiya, all! back at ya again with another c*mission! thanks to anon for giving me this fun idea to work with.

Batman is in a tough situation tonight. That applies to most nights, actually, but tonight in particular, Gotham feels colder. Not in any sort of waxing poetic sense, but literally; and if you were one of the 5 men he’s currently beating the shit out of, you might be able to see why.

The night is dark and the alleyway is cloaked in shadow, Batman’s cape moving around him like a dress made of ink. It helps hide the oval-shaped hole in his chestplate where his symbol usually rests. Tonight there’s nothing there but skin, like he’s taken costume design cues from Power Girl.

And that’s not all.

His powerful legs, darting out from under his cape to send grown men flying, are clad in black leather up to his thighs. The stiletto boots add an extra 6 inches in height, which is intimidating to his opponents, but mostly an annoyance to Batman. His center of gravity is off, and he has to adjust for it, adapt to these new circumstances without alerting anyone to his weaknesses.

He knows that above him, two figures lie in wait, watching him work, critiquing his form. Keeping an eye out to see if any of the small-time drug runners realize that Batman’s outfit looks  _ different _ tonight. But even if they saw, they wouldn’t get the  _ whole _ story; they wouldn’t be able to see beneath the black panties with the yellow bat symbol over the bulge in the crotch. Wouldn’t know about the ring tight around his cock, or the plug stuffed inside him.

That doesn’t mean he wants them to see. It would cause a headache, and he’d fail his test besides. His instructors tonight are notoriously strict. So Batman takes out the crooks with little fanfare, utilizing the shadows to keep him hidden until he strikes. They all fall in short order, and he presses a button on his belt to alert the GCPD for pickup.

Seconds later, two sets of feet land near-silently behind him.

Seconds after  _ that, _ the silence is, predictably, broken.

“I haven’t seen anyone fight that well in heels since Babs at prom when the Riddler crashed the party.”

“Oh, it was hardly a fight. Look at these guys.” Bruce turns in time to see Jason prodding at an unconscious dealer’s slack jaw with the toe of his boot. “They had no chance.”

“Night’s only just getting started, Little Wing,” Dick replies in turn. “I’d say as far as warm-ups go, that wasn’t bad.”

They’re both in uniform, though Jason has his hood tucked under one arm. Bruce towers over them in his heels, but when Nightwing comes up behind him and gives a gentle push to the small of his back, he bends at the waist until he can brace his hands up against the wall of the closest building.

“Yeah, you wanna  _ warm up, _ alright,” Jason mumbles. Dick punches him in the arm, and Jason’s hood goes clattering to the ground. “Ow, fuck you—!”

“We only have a few minutes before Gordon’s people get here,” Dick says. He starts to drag Batman’s cape away from his body, exposing the plunging backside of his “armor” (really little more than a few strips of kevlar at this point, if they’re being honest). Scars crisscross over Bruce’s spine and tell a story in his flesh, which Dick drags the tips of his fingers over like braille. “So quit whining and help me out.”

Jason grumbles, but his hands join Dick’s in exploring Bruce’s bare skin. He starts to unclip the garters attaching his belt to his boots, and, ironclad as Bruce’s will is, he shudders at the feeling. When Jason tugs at his thigh, he obediently opens his legs wider, wide enough he can feel the strain in his muscles.

He loses track of whose hand is feeling him up and whose takes his panties down, but he knows it’s Dick who puts a finger on the plug and wiggles it around inside him.

“I still love this,” he says fondly, of the bat symbol engraved on the base of the plug.

“You would,” Jason scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I only know one person with godawful enough fashion sense to  _ actually  _ wear those novelty Batman-print boxers—”

“Says the guy who put lips on his helmet.”

“Okay, I told you, I was going through some things back then—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As they bicker, Dick slowly pulls the plug out, and Bruce manages to stifle all but a single little grunt. It earns him a slap on the ass.

“Shh… Don’t wanna wake them, do you?” Dick whispers. Bruce glances at one of the unconscious criminals out of the corner of his eye, and something about it makes his bound cock throb. He doesn’t even notice Dick holding the plug up to his mouth until it touches his lips.

“Hold this for a sec.”

The taste of lubricant spreads over Bruce’s tongue as he accepts the plug. Dick’s hard cock presses against his backside, and it’s already out of his suit, the tip of it catching the rim of Bruce’s asshole.

“Hey, who says you get to go first?” Jason huffs.

“You’re the one who wanted to waste time being contrary.” Dick uses a hand to steady his cock and aim it properly. “ _ Nnh _ , Batman— Remember, stay still.”

It takes an incredible amount of concentration to hold that position while Dick buries himself in his ass to the hilt, but then, that’s what this whole “game” is about: keeping Batman on his toes, metaphorically and physically, to make sure he keeps his wits about him no matter the challenge.

Yeah. Definitely not just an excuse to spice up date night.

Jason goes silent, his eyes burning holes into Bruce and Dick both as he watches their bodies join together. No matter how many times they’ve done this, he always retains that jealous quality to him, like he’s worried they might forget about him in the middle of screwing each other’s brains out.

He always fucks harder when he’s jealous. Bruce drools around the plug just thinking about it.

“...Can’t I at least fuck his mouth?” Jason asks after a moment, his voice lower. Rougher.

“No,” Dick says. His hips slap against Bruce’s ass, filling the alleyway with an obscene slapping sound that seems deafening in the dead of the night. “I want both our loads inside him right off the—  _ heh— _ the bat.  _ Mmn… _ Make sure he’s nice and full, isn’t that right, B?”

He strokes Bruce’s side with one hand, drags his hips backward with the other. Bruce doesn’t reply, couldn’t if he wanted to, but moans his assent around the makeshift gag.

“We’re not gonna have time—”

“We will if you zip it and let me  _ concentrate… _ ”

A snort. “Concentrate? On what?”

“On not punching you a little lower this time—”

The faint sound of sirens blares off in the distance. Jason mutters, “Told you so,” but Dick shushes him, slamming harder and faster into Bruce.

“Don’t worry. We’re still,  _ ah— _ Still gonna get this done. Just follow my lead…”

Dick comes when the sound of the sirens are painfully close (maybe  _ because _ they’re so close), grunting against the back of Bruce’s neck. His cock pulses, releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum, and he’s quick to plug it all inside Bruce. Then, too fast, he and Jason are gone, back up on top of the buildings that flank them.

Bruce gets the idea. He keeps his cape tightly shut around him as a few officers roll up to collect the dealers. And it must be a slow night, because Gordon’s there to talk to him, too, in person. Doesn’t think anything of Batman’s one-word answers — that’s nothing new — but he  _ does _ seem a little baffled by the apparent sudden change in height. Mutters something about getting shorter with age when he turns around to fish a cigarette out of his pocket mid-conversation.

“I know I’m supposed to be quitting, but goddamnit, a man my age has to— You’re gone, aren’t you.”

Batman is gone.

More precisely, he’s gone from the alleyway, but he’s very present a few stories up, sandwiched between Jason and Dick. And what a sight it would be for anyone if they were to look up, to see Red Hood and Nightwing showering Batman’s face and neck with sloppy kisses.

Jason bends him over the ledge, takes him from behind with Dick’s cum still warm inside him. Dick stops him from going too deep with a hand around the base of his cock, arms wrapped around Jason’s waist, muttering filthy things into his ear that are just loud enough for Bruce to hear, too.

“C’mon, don’t fuck him too hard too soon... This is about filling him up, remember?”

“Says the guy who just got to fuck him as hard as you wanted,  _ nnh— _ ”

All the while, the couple inches of Jason’s cock that have managed to squeeze inside of Bruce still aren’t quite enough to reach his prostate properly. He feels a deep urge to throw his hips back, but he just tenses his jaw and stays still as a gargoyle.

“I know you’ve got a nice load saved up.” Dick’s other hand toys with Jason’s balls (freshly-shaved, from the feel of it). “Just focus on that. Think about how full B’s gonna be when we’re done with him. I know you wanna come for your big brother, that’s it, he can suck you clean when he’s all plugged up—”

“ _ Jesus,  _ Dick.”

Jason is thicker than Dick, cockhead stretching him wide and pulsing noticeably hard inside him. He groans, low and deep, as Dick cups his twitching balls and bites his neck. It’s been days since he last slept with any of them; must have been abstaining from touching himself, too, because he really does have a hell of a lot of cum to pump inside of Bruce.

When Jason pulls out, a drop of it drips down Bruce’s balls. One of Dick’s more slender fingers gathers it up and pushes it back inside him. The plug follows as Jason takes a seat and catches his breath.

“Hey…” Dick reaches between Bruce’s legs, wraps those fingers around his straining cock. “...think he deserves a reward?”

Jason looks over his face: flushed pink under the cowl, lips parted, but otherwise impeccably still.

“Like you said,” he replies after a moment, “the night’s only just getting started.”

Bruce’s fingers tighten on the ledge of the roof in frustration when Dick lets his cock go and stands back up.

“Guess you’re right,” he says. “C’mon, B. Up. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

The ring cuts into Bruce’s cock, just on the edge of painful. He’s learned over the years to use pain as a motivating force, inspiration to get things done. Maybe that makes him a bit of a masochist. Maybe the boys know that.

They’re certainly smug about it next time Batman has to dispatch some criminals. Smugglers this time, big crates of heroin on a ship docked at Gotham Harbor. These men are more well-trained than street dealers. But catching dealers doesn’t treat the problem at its source, and that supply gets cut off tonight.

Nightwing and Red Hood hang back, watching again as Batman pummels men twice as wide as him, dodging bullets in a way that manages to look effortless.

That cool, composed facade collapses when they trap him against a shipping crate, once all the nearby threats have been taken care of.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sensitive,” Dick says, touching just the swollen tip of Bruce’s cock, laughing when his hips twitch.

“Definitely digging this costume change,” Jason agrees, pinching a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The oval on his chest is just wide enough to show both of them off. “Now hands off, Grayson, I get him first this time.”

It’s, in a word,  _ exhilarating  _ to get passed from one of them to the other, told what to do with no choice in the matter. That’s not something that comes easily to Bruce, and it’s perhaps harder for him than fighting in six-inch heels. Harder, even, than lifting a leg up over Jason’s shoulder while he fucks him hard against the shipping crate.

Jason is a rough-but-intimate lover, the way his brows knit together as he focuses on fucking Bruce hard and fast, kissing Bruce’s jaw and neck every time he tilts his head back in pleasure. His Adam’s apple bobs under Jason’s lips, vibrating with the tiniest hint of a moan.

Again, Jason comes in him. Again, Dick joins. And again, Bruce isn’t allowed to come, plugged up and sent off to go find more ways to protect the city.

The next bust is at a place more Dick’s scene. Some construction scaffolding on the side of a skyscraper being rebuilt after one of Gotham’s recent disasters. Jason stands with his arms crossed on the more stable side of the building with half a dozen unconscious bodies while Dick takes Bruce out in the wind, next to the support beams.

At that height, even Bruce has half a mind to feel wary. But Dick seems more turned on than ever, practically dangling from the metal supports as he fucks into Bruce’s (by now quite sloppy) hole.

“It’s okay, Bruce,” he says, voice raised to be heard over the howling of the wind. “No one can hear you up here but me.”

On cue, Bruce lets a groan ripple out of his throat, eyes rolling into his head as he tilts his head back. The world seems to sway below him from so high up, but when he shuts his eyes and listens to Dick’s voice, that dizzying feeling swirls into pleasure in his gut.

“...Someone might see you, though. But I got a front row seat, a unique view, so who am I to complain, right? Your face,” he breathes against Bruce’s jaw, peppering it with kisses. “The way you feel all full of our cum… I want me and Jay to be the only ones to see you like this.”

Bruce knows there’s a command hidden in there, one of the rules of their game being staunchly enforced. But he can also feel the way Dick’s hips stutter whenever he talks about the potential of being caught, being seen, and it’s a fond feeling, to know that some things about his boys never change.

Every time Dick slams pointedly against his prostate, he sees stars, and not just because of the night sky above them. Every single thrust makes his body even more oversensitive than it already is. He’s fought monsters and aliens, taken down regimes and entire cabals of villains, and yet somehow, being fucked by Dick Grayson on some unsteady metal bars is the one thing that makes him question his own ability to keep a level head.

He doesn’t fall to his death in some daring sex-related accident, though. Dick keeps him steady, even when he shudders with another orgasm. His confidence around heights is unmatched; to this day, Bruce remains impressed with him for it.

The rest of the night goes by in a similar fashion: track down the criminals, find a way to subdue them without revealing himself, get fucked by both his bickering sons in quick succession. Rinse and repeat.

And Bruce really needs a rinse right about now. His whole body feels sticky with sweat, hair plastered to his face under the cowl, panties wet with his own precum and the little drops of Dick and Jason’s cum that have managed, against all odds, to escape. Though he can’t exactly smell himself from an objective point of view, he knows he must reek of sex. Every passing round makes it harder and harder for him to keep himself concealed.

So it’s both a blessing and a curse that their investigative efforts tonight all lead back to one place: the Iceberg Lounge. On the plus side, he has more of an excuse to keep his cape wrapped around him as much as possible in the cold. On the minus, he instantly feels the temperature change the second he crosses from muggy, humid outdoor Gotham to the Lounge’s chilly interior. His nipples pebble up almost instantly, and were his cock not bound and hard, he’s sure it’d try to shrink inward.

Alright. Now he understands Dick and Jason’s complaints about going into cold climates in the Robin suit. His legs aren’t even bare, but it’s already hard to deal with, just slinking around next to giant decorative ice sculptures with hardly any clothing on. He’ll have to finish this fast.

Forcing a blackout (and subsequent frantic civilian evacuation) is easy. Trailing Penguin to his panic room is easy. Fighting his two hired guards — Deadshot and Bane both — to get to him?

Less so.

It’s just his luck to run into those two tonight. Together, they function much like a pair of hunters training to hit waterfowl; Bane grabbing him by the ankle and throwing him like a clay disk, and Deadshot taking aim and firing. It’s only muscle memory that lets Bruce avoid it, landing hard in a crouch on Penguin’s desk.

From across the room, he can see Deadshot lock his gaze on his bent leg, where it pokes out of his cape. The tight leather and laces keeping the boot up, the sharp stiletto at the heel. It only lasts half a second before Bruce leaps up again, but in that brief moment, he wonders if Deadshot knows.

No time to figure it out. He charges at them with everything he’s got left in him, frustrated to the point where he’d slam them straight through the walls of Arkham with his bare hands if it meant finishing this. Getting to finally feel that release he’s been craving all godforsaken night.

“Something got you on edge tonight, Bats?” Deadshot asks in that rumbly voice of his, as Bruce charges at him to force him into close-range combat. “You seem  _ different. _ ”

“Tired,” Bruce growls. “And not in the mood.”

He lets his fists do the talking after that. And his feet. And his explosive batarangs.

Deadshot goes down first. Bane is the bigger problem, metaphorically and literally. He shakes the floor with every step he takes, and his huge hands make manhandling even someone as large as Batman no problem. It’s all he can do to keep his cape from billowing open every time he goes flying across the room.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to finish it alone. Right before Bane can slam a colossal fist down on him, a pair of feet swing down from up above and clock him across the side of the head.

“Don’t mind me dropping in!” Dick calls out from his grapple.

Bane spins around, shouts and charges for Dick like he’s a piñata dangling from a string. Bruce goes to make a move, but a red blur streaks past him before he can. Jason, cutting through some of the tubes connecting Bane’s venom tanks to his body.

“Take it from me, big guy,” he says, as Bane howls in anger and grabs for the mess spilling out over his back. “Drugs are bad.”

The monster of a man whips around, swinging a fist toward Jason’s helmet. It shatters open, sends Jason to the ground a few feet away.

Bruce sees red, and this time, not from Jason’s outfit.

He gives himself over to instinct then, something primal driving him forward in defense of his partners. Doesn’t think, just acts, exploiting Bane’s momentary weakness for all it’s worth. Before he knows it, the giant crashes to the ground in front of him, and it feels like the entire building shakes along with him.

He has to pause a moment to catch his breath. Doesn’t even care that his cape is splayed wide open now, the chilly air cooling him down. The ghost of a breeze over his skin lights his nerves on fire, an intense tingling that he needs to take care of,  _ now. _

Looking back, he sees Dick helping Jason up, sans broken helmet. Jason flashes him a quick thumbs-up, and Bruce exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto.

Only one thing left to do. He stalks over to the panic room door, neatly hidden behind an aquarium behind Penguin’s desk. Silent as the grave, he sticks a device on the keypad. It whirrs through different passcode combinations until, seconds later, the door hisses open.

Batman’s silhouette falls over Penguin as the door opens up. He squawks indignantly, tries to stutter out something about property laws and warrants. Bruce ignores him, stalking forward.

The monocle nearly pops out of Oswald’s head when Bruce gets close enough for him to really  _ see. _ See, for just a brief second or two, the hint of his outfit through the slit in his cape.

Bruce takes him out with one swift, unforgiving punch. It’s the least he deserves, for what his hired muscle did to Jason.

A familiar whistle sounds off behind him.

“Little harsh, B?”

“No,” he says. Turns to see Dick and Jason leaning in the doorway, Jason with a red mark forming high on one cheekbone. “Not harsh enough.”

He meets Jason’s eyes then, hopes he can see even through the cowl’s whiteout lenses what he means to say. An apology for not being fast enough. For all the times he hasn’t been enough for Jason.

The kid, too good for him, just rolls his eyes, half a smirk playing on his face.

“Save it. It’s been fun watching you work on your own tonight, but…” Jason drags his gaze down Bruce’s body, from the oval on his chest to the bottoms of his shoes. “...sometimes, watching isn’t good enough.” He shrugs. “We had to join the fun  _ some _ time.”

“And what’s a night out without taking a few hits?” Dick loops an arm around Jason’s waist, presses him against the doorframe for a quick, hungry kiss. Smirks against his lips when he pulls back, looking over at Bruce. “...But you  _ did _ get a little sloppy at the end, there.”

Flushed, aching with arousal and desperate to give himself up to his boys, Bruce sinks to his knees. Cobblepot’s unconscious body like dead weight next to him. Dead weight that could, at any moment, rouse and see what’s going on in his panic room.

“...Let me make it up to you,” he says, bending down until his breath ghosts over Dick’s boot. “Please.”

“Not me,” Dick says. “Jason. Tell  _ him _ how sorry you are.”

Bruce moves without hesitation to Jason’s boot, pressing his lips to the toe. “I should have been faster.” Another kiss. “Better.”

“Oh, you know…” Jason’s voice is a little breathy, deeper with what Bruce knows by now is arousal. “...I think that maybe we can work something out.”

Bruce looks up, Jason’s bulge not that far above his head. Dick grabs his chin, pulls him up onto his knees until he’s at eye-level with both their crotches. Dick, too, is hard in his spandex, so tight that he can practically trace the outline of every vein through the material.

It’s mouthwatering.

The pair of them undo each other’s pants, and together, they look as wonderful as ever. Jason, with thick, dark curls at the base of his wide cock, tip flushed pink and leaking; Dick, thinner but longer, with a vein leading right up to his circumcision scar. Bruce has committed every inch of both their bodies to memory, but he still worships them like it’s the first time, like he’s worried he might forget.

He sucks Jason’s cock into his mouth first, Dick’s pressed against his cheek. They’re all so close, huddled together, Dick and Jason panting and exchanging kisses, fucking Bruce’s face.

“Thought this was supposed t’be  _ my _ apology,” Jason grunts when Dick tries to force his cock into Bruce’s mouth beside his own. “You’re so greedy.”

“This is about him,” Dick says. “Correcting  _ his _ behavior. So we really should push him to the limit…”

He hooks his thumb into Bruce’s cheek, pulling on it to give himself more room. Bruce keeps his mouth open wide to accommodate them both, relaxing his gag reflex, welcoming them in. And he wouldn’t dare close his eyes right now, lest he miss the way Jason’s brow furrows and Dick’s lips part in a silent gasp.

“ _ Nnh,  _ that’s it,” Jason says, urging Bruce forward with a hand on the back of his head. “Oh, fuck, you’re doin’ so good, B…”

“Desperate to come, aren’t you?” Dick asks, rolling his hips just a bit, just enough to rub his cock over Bruce’s soft, wet tongue. “I noticed how wet your panties are. Made you hot to fight all full of our cum, didn’t it? Trying to hold it in for us?”

Bruce groans his assent around them. He wants badly to wrap a hand around his own cock, but he keeps both of them balled into fists between his legs. His cock feels ready to burst, throbbing hard against its restraints.

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna let you.” Dick bites Jason’s ear, and Jason shudders, leaking more precum into the back of Bruce’s throat. “Wanna finally come on that pretty face—”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Jason asks, glancing from one unconscious body to another.

“Sure,” Dick says, in the middle of pushing Bruce’s cowl down. “Long as he does a good job, it’ll be quick. Right?”

With a fond pat on the cheek, he lets Bruce continue, raking his fingers through Bruce’s sweat-sticky hair to push it back. With renewed vigor, Bruce wraps his hands around each of their cocks, stroking what can’t fit in his mouth, gauntlets long discarded. He’s immediately rewarded by the sound of Jason’s moan, joining Dick in tangling a hand in his hair.

“Wanna come on your chest,” Jason gasps. “Dick, you can have his face.”

“Names,” Dick chides.

“No, I mean you’re a dick.”

“You’re such a brat,  _ nnh— _ ”

The little snipe spurs Dick on to push Jason back completely, taking Bruce’s mouth for himself. Rather than argue, Jason wraps an arm around Dick’s waist, lust in his eyes, far gone enough that wrecking Bruce together takes priority.

“Hands down,” Dick snaps, and Bruce immediately obeys. “You’re so good at this, B— Keep going, just like that.  _ Oh— _ ”

He yanks Bruce’s head back at the same time as he pulls out, stroking himself, coming in messy streaks over his cheeks and tongue. The look on his face is intense, and that combined with the warm feeling of his cum dripping down makes Bruce throb with need.

“My turn,” Jason says, low and almost predatory, pushing Bruce onto his back while Dick’s still catching his breath.

Bruce’s cape splayed out beneath him, he’s on full display for Jason, who straddles him immediately. He comes in a few quick strokes, grunting, rubbing his cum into Bruce’s exposed chest with his still-throbbing cock. Makes sure to tease Bruce’s oversensitive nipples with his cockhead, muttering filthy things in his post-orgasm haze.

“God, so fucking good like that, covered in cum like a good fuckin’ slut…”

Dick is at their side, then, urging Jason off with a hand on his hip. “ _ So _ good, wasn’t he? I think he deserves that reward…”

“ _ Oh _ yeah.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he scoots down to get a better view of between Bruce’s splayed-open legs, yanking his panties down. “Better try and keep quiet, though… Never know when the birdbrain’s gonna come to.”

Even though Bruce knows, logically, he hit Penguin hard enough to keep him out for quite a while, he still feels a thrill shoot down his spine at the prospect. Without his cowl on, both of them can see him glance over, too.

Dick chuckles. His shaky fingers stroke over Bruce’s straining cock, flushed deep red by now, finding the strap to the cock ring at the shaved base of his length. Jason goes for the plug, wiggling it around inside Bruce just to see if he’ll squeal.

He almost does. Clamps his teeth shut at the last second, but tilts his head back, arches his spine, begs them for more with every inch of himself.

The ring pops off, and slowly, slowly, Jason starts to pull the plug out. It drags across his prostate bit by bit, and Bruce comes, that deep kind of orgasm that leaves his whole body feeling melted inside.

Dick jerks him off through it, whispers sweet profanities, milks his cock of every last bit of cum that’s been waiting so long to escape. It’s still coming out when the plug is all the way out, a tide of their cum, Dick and Jason’s claim on him, coming after. He claws at their knees for purchase, trying so hard not to moan loudly enough to wake everyone in Gotham. Failing a little at the end, just a little, when Jason shoves his fingers inside him, and he has to whine at the last tiny assault on his prostate.

He’s breathing hard, cum-streaked chest rising and falling, as Jason lifts those fingers to his lips and presents him with the result of a very,  _ very  _ long night’s work. Bruce accepts it gratefully, hungrily, sucking Jason’s fingers clean, tongue darting between them, making sure he gets every last drop. Doesn’t want to waste a bit.

“...I’d say that was a pretty good experiment,” Dick says after a moment. He’s stroking up and down Bruce’s thigh, calmly, lazily, soothing him as he twitches with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“We’ve still gotta get outta here, dolt,” Jason murmurs. His voice is softer now, the insult more an endearment than anything. He brushes his wet fingers over Bruce’s face, down his jaw. “Hopefully without leaving cum everywhere like a dirty Jackson Pollock.”

Bruce grabs his wrist then, turns his face to press a kiss into his palm. His tongue betrays his intentions, licking off the bits of Dick’s cum Jason’s managed to get on his hand. “You let me worry about that.”

Dick smiles. “Yup.  _ Definitely _ a success.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/hotdadnaya) for anyone who wants to follow me! I post hot spicy updates about where I've been and what projects are next


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